


Frostiron Prompts

by iswyn



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Crossdressing, Drinking to Cope, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Merloki, Odin's A+ Parenting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Underage Drinking, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iswyn/pseuds/iswyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked for frostiron prompts, and promised to write a short piece for the first one I received, but then I got a whole bunch of really good ideas thrown my way. They'll all be compiled here.</p><p>Prompt Eleven: Loki shifts into various random people, waiters, cooks, yadda, bit by bit making Tony eat an apple of Idunn, from Angerina on tumblr.</p><p>*No archive warnings apply yet. I may change that if a chapter needs it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. omegaverse for theravenofwynter

**Author's Note:**

> I want to make sure this is clear: each chapter is a separate story. I will not be continuing one prompt into the next.
> 
> 1: Omegaverse wherein Loki is given the choice to stay in his cell, or be freed if he marries Tony Stark. For theravenofwynter, my winner.  
> 2: Tony's a thief and my god, he's a good one. A great one. He's in for a great surprise when he breaks into a certain tall and mysterious writer's apartment. For howlingcutemando, who is apparently my muse.  
> 3: Merman!Loki talks suicidal scientist out of jumping into the freezing water. Another one for howlingcutemando.  
> 4: Tony is in the middle of his summer semester at school. He meets a stranger, and they bond over something they have in common: the worst fathers ever. (Okay fine, it's not a prompt. I was prompted by how much I hate father's day.)  
> 5: Avenger!Tony rescues Villain!Loki from danger and is unexpectedly rewarded with a kiss.  
> 6: Loki dies saving Tony's life. Tony cannot stop thinking about it and a year later Thor brings his little brother to Avengers Tower.  
> 7: From FoxyOwl: Cross-dressing, psychic connection, culinary AU. (This is mostly for the cross-dressing, of course.)  
> 8: From usedupshiver, Mixing up AUs prompt: Coffee shop/Urban fantasy/Crime and criminals... :D  
> 9: Tony and Loki are a secret thing, and when Tony tries to end it, Loki gives him a magical tattoo that disappears and reappears in awkward places, until Tony relents and comes back. – JustWondering on AO3  
> 10: Let's try a mafia, arranged marriage, tech support frostiron AU, from freakinmi on tumblr  
> 11: Loki shifts into various random people, waiters, cooks, yadda, bit by bit making Tony eat an apple of Idunn, from angerina on tumblr.  
> 

“No.”

Frigga sighed. Loki might be her favorite son, but sometimes the things he had in common with Odin were exasperating. Stubbornness, for example. “Loki, be reasonable.”

He was standing as far from her as he possibly could in his cell, with his back facing her. He didn’t even glance over his shoulder. “I am being reasonable.”

“Don’t you want out of this cage?” She cajoled. It had to be chafing, stuck in one tiny room with no company but her occasional illicit visit.

This visit was not only condoned, but in person. It was also the only way she saw to escape Odin’s excessive sentence. Odin had given his blessing, and his promise that if Loki agreed, he would be freed to return to Midgard.

“More than _almost_ anything,” Loki agreed. “But exchanging one prison for another holds no interest for me.”

“It won’t be the same,” she insisted. “You’ll be free to come and go, to do what you like.”

He turned his head and looked at her just so she could see him roll his eyes. “Like you’re free to do as you like? It’s just another cage for them to lock me in, only with this, they can pat themselves on the back and pretend they’ve done something great.”

She knew he had always seen his gender as its own kind of prison, but she never imagined he thought of marriage that way. It was true, she wasn’t as free to come and go as she might like, but she simply saw that as part of being an adult. Her poor younger son just hadn’t grown up yet.

Once again, she sighed. “You’re only hurting yourself with this stubbornness, Loki.”

That got a reaction. He spun around, glaring at her. “Hurting myself? Do you want to know what’s going to hurt me? Being treated like a commodity. An inconvenience that you can sell off to some Midgardian, some _mortal,_ all because I had the misfortune to be born _omega_.”

“Loki!” She was truly taken aback by the anger she saw in his eyes. Did he really hate himself so very much? “No one sees you that way. Your father and I want you to be happy—”

“And so he sentenced me to eternity in prison,” Loki mocked, his lips drawing together in a moue of disgust. “Or chained to a mortal, _cooking_ and _cleaning_ and **_having babies_** like some kind of slave. Tell me, _Mother_ , will the All-Father tie my life to his, so that I will cease to be any kind of inconvenience as soon as the _pathetic mortal_ dies?”

She was honestly taken aback by the idea. “Of-of course not!”

A calculating look entered his eyes. “So when the mortal dies, I’ll be free? Not just returned to this cell?”

“Not if you kill him, Loki,” she frowned in warning.

“Yes, yes,” he waved a dismissive hand. “But he is prone to trying to kill himself. He probably won’t live out the next decade.”

“Loki, that is not a good reason to agree to—”

“Tell Odin I accept, Mother. I will marry the mortal. My,” he curled up his nose, “soul-mate.”

 

*

 

Midgard was much the same as he’d left it, but for the fact that the mess he’d made of Stark tower had been fixed.

He had felt it, of course, when he and Stark met for the first time. The sudden rush of euphoria and confusion that was supposed to accompany the acquisition of one’s ‘soul-mate’. He certainly wouldn’t have given up the fight so easily had he not been distracted by a wave of light-headedness. He still wondered how Stark had managed to threaten him through the nausea.

Maybe it was just another way in which the alpha was lucky. Yggdrasil, to have been born an alpha! Loki would have given anything.

All mating had ever signified to Loki was another kind of servitude. He had served Thor for a thousand years as his brother and second. (Always second) Being stuck with Anthony Stark as master for a decade or two couldn’t be that bad, could it?

Serving a mortal was going to hurt his pride, certainly, but at least the man would have the good manners to die. And that wouldn’t bother Loki at all.

He had long ago squashed his stupid omega instincts for caring and nurturing and other such nonsense.

Thor, apparently unhappy about the deal Odin had made with the mortal, did not say a word as he accompanied the guards down the rainbow bridge to Stark’s tower. He hadn’t even tried to break Odin’s restrictions on visits as mother had, so Loki could only assume that Thor despised him. That was what happened when your family found out you were a monster.

He wondered if Stark had been warned about that. It could be an amusing revelation, if not.

They were greeted in the tower by the same lot who had seen him off, and one red haired woman who looked strangely pleased and nervous. It was an ironic sort of ‘homecoming’, and mirrored his departure down to the fact that Odin had ordered him muzzled for the trip.

Thor stepped forward. “Stark. You petitioned the All-Father for my brother—” brother still, was it? “to be given to your custody. You claim he is your mate and have promised to marry him.” All very strange. It was the deal, but why was Thor formally repeating it? “And if I find that you have not held to your end of the deal, or have been cruel to my brother in any way, I shall end you myself.”

The muzzle came away as Thor said the final words, and Loki’s mouth dropped open. He gaped like a fish for a moment.

Stark had no such shock or reservations. “He’s my soul mate, Thor. I’m sure of it. I told you before you insisted on taking him back to Asgard.”

“And as such,” the red haired woman interjected, “according to the treaty your father has signed with SHIELD, Tony was entitled to ask for Loki’s safe return.” She turned shining blue eyes on Loki. “I know I should be threatening you or something for what happened, but—” she broke off the sniffle, and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m just so happy for you two.”

“Fear not, Lady Potts,” Thor assured her as he turned to Loki with sad eyes. “My brother will be rendered harmless by the magic-dampeni—”

“Is that really necessary?” Stark interjected. “We’re going to be married. Does your father expect him to try to kill me?”

Thor cocked his head and looked at Stark. “It is a possibility. You should know that Loki has never enjoyed his servile position as an omega.”

“What?” The women demanded in unison.

Even Thor was a little surprised by their apparent vehemence. “Loki,” he reiterated. “He does not like being an omega.”

“I think the word they’re sticking on is ‘servile’, big guy,” Stark commented, looking just as displeased as the women. Everyone was glowering, in fact.

Thor, adorable fool that he was, still did not see the danger. “He is omega. They are… for breeding and work in the home.”

The Captain hid his face in his palm. “Oh boy.”

“Are you telling me that you spent the last thousand years treating _my mate_ like a servant, Thor?” The tiny adorable man drew himself up completely straight, looking positively venomous.

“Certainly not. He is my brother,” Thor denied. “But he is omega. And now that he is mated, that is what is expected. He knows this. The All-Father expects him to act accordingly.” Thor shot Loki a warning glance.

Every Midgardian in the room looked like they had an opinion they wished to share. The man/monster actually walked out, breathing deeply. Stark took charge, though, which Loki supposed he should be grateful for. If he must be tied to anyone, best it be someone who knew how to work a room.

“Okay, Thor,” Stark said, putting a hand on Thor’s giant shoulder. “We’re all going to pretend you didn’t just spew that genderist bullshit, and suggest that you discuss omega’s lib with Jane sometime.”

Then he turned to Loki. “And you,” he said, a small smile turning the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home. I think it’s time we had that drink.”

 


	2. Tony and Black Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from howlingcutemando on tumblr.
> 
> Tony's a thief and my god, he's a good one. A great one. He takes pride in breaking into the highest security building and taking something small, yet obvious, an Oscar per example. He's in for a great surprise when he breaks into a certain tall and misterious writer's apartment. PS: I'm lame!

The job was an easy one.

Tony didn’t usually take those, but the price was right, and a guy had a lifestyle to keep up. Sometimes, you took jobs that paid the bills.

Some mystery writer bought a rare manuscript that some other guy wanted, and instead of trying to get it the ‘right’ way, he decided to get it the easy way. He contacted Tony.

Or, well, he contacted a guy, who contacted a guy, who contacted Tony.

So that was why Tony was sliding down the outside of an Upper East Side penthouse at three in the morning.

He had to give them credit; for an easy job, it wasn’t all _that_ easy. The building had top notch security—people and cameras—and those goddamned rotating disk locks that took forever and a day to pick. In the end, the window was an easier entry point than the door.

Plus just Tony’s luck—which was awesome, by the way—the guy liked to leave a window open. It was just a matter of waiting until the middle of the night, getting down the side of the building, getting the manuscript, and getting back out.

He knew what the package looked like, and he had a backpack equipped to cradle the delicate old paper safely as he made his way back out.

Tony had done harder jobs in his sleep.

He slid in the window as quietly as the night breeze, and dropped to the floor. He kept low, on the off chance that Mr. Writer was wandering to his office or the bathroom or something. People tend to look for intruders at eye level, so Tony’s height worked in his favor.

No short jokes, thanks.

He knew right where the guy was keeping the manuscript, he’d seen it framed and on display in his recon. At least the guy knew how to own nice things.

If you were gonna shell out for something like that, you put it somewhere people could see it. What was the point, if you kept it locked up all the time?

Tony almost felt bad that its new owner was obviously going to have to keep it under wraps.

It was just a book, sure, but it was by that Sherlock Holmes guy—Sir Arthur somebody?—and apparently it was worth a quarter of a million dollars to the guy who had contracted Tony to acquire it. A quarter of a million dollars bought a lot of good scotch and expensive suits.

Keeping to the edges of the room, he headed for the spot on the wall where the manuscript hung. He’d mapped the apartment out pretty thoroughly during his recon, so it wasn’t hard to find.

He kind of wished he’d gotten a look at the guy who owned the apartment. It was a nice place. All browns, greens, and golds. Nice art. Stuff that looked good, not art for its own sake.

Of course, that was just asking to be let down. The kind of guy who had a gorgeous house was always a fat old guy with more hair on his back than his head, and a skinny trophy wife in her twenties. Not Tony’s type at all.

And if he were Tony’s type, what would he do, _not rob him?_

In the middle of that thought, the living room light flipped on. Tony froze.

What the hell?

“Let me guess,” came a smooth, British-accented voice. “Joe sent you to steal Black Peter?”

That was not right. Tony didn’t get caught. And how the hell did the guy know exactly who had hired him and what he was there for?

Also, why was that voice so fucking sexy? The accent. It had to be the accent. He was sure he’d turn around and find a paunchy middle aged guy with a bad comb-over and hideous paisley silk pajamas. That was what writers looked like, right?

“Well?” the voice continued, not sounding at all like a person who had just found an intruder in their home. “Are we going to have a conversation, or am I going to hit the call button? I’ve already dialed. Your choice.”

“I c-can’t hand out that kind of information,” Tony said, voice coming out as a strangled whisper.

There was a pause, followed by more of that voice. “But you are here to steal Black Peter, yes? It’s the only thing I have that’s really worth stealing.”

Not trusting his voice, Tony just nodded. Why hadn’t the guy called the cops yet?

There were footsteps behind him, and the urge to turn and look was almost overwhelming, but Tony squashed it. Sudden moves seemed likely to end in the police being summoned.

“Do have a seat,” the voice suggested firmly. “I haven’t decided what to do with you yet, and we wouldn’t want you to tire yourself out standing there.”

As slowly as possible, Tony turned to look out into the room. The man on the sofa did not fit Tony’s picture at all. He was long and lean, with sleek black hair and an amused smirk. He was the absolute definition of fucking sexy, and that voice fit him perfectly.

Tony was in so much trouble.

The guy was also sitting right in the middle of the sofa, legs splayed obscenely in loose black pajama pants. His chest was bare, pale and smooth and perfect as a renaissance marble statue. The only thing that ruined the picture was the phone sitting on his knee, clearly just waiting for that last button to be dialed.

Tony gave a quick scan, found a chair that was slightly lower to the floor than the sofa, and seated himself. Putting himself in a submissive position seemed like a good idea. If there was a ring to be kissed, he was all over that shit, too. Anything that got him away from Mr. Sexy Writer without a getting a close-up of the local police precinct.

“Do take the mask off,” the writer ordered, caressing the phone meaningfully. “I like to look a man in the face while I talk to him.”

Tony glanced at the window. Nope. No way could he get back up the side of the building before the police arrived. So what were his choices? Run and get caught. Run and possibly get shot, because that happened. Try to overpower the guy and hope that he didn’t manage to call the cops first. Tony was no slouch in a fight, but looking at all that lean muscle, he was pretty sure that wasn’t going to go his way.

The man tsked at him disapprovingly. “I think we’re both men of a higher sensibility than that, aren’t we? Violence is beneath us.” There was no nervousness in the voice, though. It was the voice of a man who knew that if it came to a fight, he could handle himself. It meant that Tony was more and more fucked as he went.

Sighing heavily, he pulled the balaclava off his head.

One raven-black eyebrow lifted in in surprise. “Well aren’t you unexpected all around?”

If the very notion hadn’t been ridiculous, Tony would have thought he was being flirted with.

“How much is he paying you to steal it?” the writer asked, voice full of amusement. “No, wait, let me guess. Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“…How?” Tony was dumbfounded. How could he possibly know?

“Because that was his limit at the auction, too.” The author motioned vaguely in the direction of the framed shadowbox that contained the manuscript in question. “I wasn’t planning to buy it, you see. But then I saw our friend Joe salivating over it, and I thought to myself… He’s a son of a bitch, and I’m not going to let him have it.”

Tony absolutely couldn’t keep the grin off his face. His client was kind of a douche.

“You can have it,” the man continued. “If you promise that you won’t give it to him.”

Tony’s eyes jerked back to the statuesque man sitting across from him. “What? I don’t want it.”

“Then why are you stealing it?”

“A quarter of a million dollars,” Tony said disbelievingly. “This is my job.”

“Ah. I understand completely, ah… what do I call you?” The man’s face was still painted in amusement, and Tony’s recklessness jumped in the way of common sense, which was shrieking something about how giving a victim his name was the dumbest idea ever.

“Tony,” he answered, the little shrieking voice happy that at least he hadn’t offered up his last name and social security number.

“And I assume you know that I am Loki Odinson,” the writer offered in return, and well, Tony actually hadn’t.

Well, he had known, but he hadn’t paid attention. The more he knew about the targets, the harder it was to steal their shit. Like his lawyer, Pepper, from whom he had been planning to steal a Picasso. Then he found out about her, and it, and why it was so damned important to her, and he just couldn’t do it.

Instead, he’d put her on retainer, and talked her into upping her security. If he couldn’t steal it, then his client couldn’t complain.

So yeah, Tony tried not to learn about the people whose shit he was absconding with.

Especially enormous hot ones with bare chests and sex hair.

Something in his expression must have given away his train of thought, because the smile on the write—on Loki’s face turned into a broad smirk. “What shall I do with you, then, my pretty little thief?”

Blinking rapidly, Tony shook his head. “Wait, what?” He looked around for hidden cameras. “Is this a joke, or did you just—”

“Suggest that we enact the terrible plot of a piece of pornography?” Loki asked, amusement written in every line of his body. “Well you did wake me from a lovely dream.”

Tony grinned back. “What kind of lovely dream?”

He found himself pinned by an intense green gaze. “The kind where a beautiful boy with giant brown eyes was kneeling in front of me, showing me how skilled his tongue really was.”

“You have prophetic dreams often?” Tony asked, slipping down onto his knees and making his way over to where Loki was sitting on the couch. “Because funny thing. I’ve got a pretty damn skilled tongue.”

Pulling the phone off his knee, Loki swiped the screen to open it. Tony held his breath as Loki turned the screen to face him and showed him as he cancelled the impending call to the police.

“I do hope it’s a recurring dream,” he purred as he pulled the drawstring on his pajamas.

Placing himself in the v between his ex-victim’s thighs, he smiled coyly. “Oh I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.”


	3. The Water's Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merman!Loki talks suicidal scientist out of jumping into the freezing water. Another prompt from the lovely howlingcutemando. I wonder if she's sure she's not a frostiron shipper...

Tony threw the keys into the driver’s seat of his car.

_No, Howard’s car_.

He didn’t want it to be inconvenient or morbid for anyone to retrieve it, after all. Not that he thought Howard would hesitate to yank the keys from his cold, dead hands if he had to. That was what was important to his father. Things. Money.

Some little old lady who could barely see over the wheel on a good day had been out driving in a snowstorm, run a red light, and plowed into the passenger side of Tony’s own car. It was a huge mess, both cars totaled, and he’d had to spend the entire day first with EMTs, and then filling out police reports.

The police kept telling him that it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing he could have done.

They had called his parents, they told him, looking bothered. He’d known it wouldn’t garner much response, and he’d told them not to worry. Maria was off on a cruise with some friends, and Howard was too busy in the lab to be bothered.

When he had finally arrived home, driven there in the back of a police car like a damned criminal, Howard had finally been listening to the recorded message State Trooper Jones had left him seven hours earlier.

Tony had almost died, and what was Howard worried about?

_What did you do, Tony? Is the car okay? Were you drinking?_

No, but he sure as hell started as soon as he got away from his father’s third degree.

He borrowed one of Howard’s dozen other fucking cars, and just driven. It should have made him nervous, driving again so soon after the accident, but driving was the only freedom he’d ever had, and he’d be damned if some random act of gods-that-didn’t-exist was going to take it away from him.

In the end, he found himself at a bridge not half a mile from the house. There was a sign warning of icy surfaces, and for some reason, Tony decided it was the spot. He got out of the car, tossed the keys in, and walked out onto the bridge.

It was slippery. He slid around a bit in his ridiculous Italian loafers.

_You have to dress the part of a CEO if people are going to take you seriously, Tony. No more sneakers._

The whiskey in the bottle he was carrying sloshed around loudly, the only ambient sound other than the car’s engine clicking a few dozen yards away, and Tony’s own breathing. No birds, no animals, no wind. The storm of that morning had vanished, leaving an idyllic snow covered landscape.

He could see the beauty around him, but all he could think about was holding a dying old woman in his arms as she apologized. She was sorry. She hadn’t seen him. Was he okay? Her blood was everywhere, and she was worried about him. He didn’t even have a broken bone.

A dead old woman who had almost killed him was more worried about him than his own father.

The cuts on his cheek stung with the burn of salt.

He sat down on the edge of the bridge and looked out across the river. It was too wide to freeze over completely, but it had to be very cold, given the way the ice was encroaching on the edges. It was a little like the car, really: beautiful, and a killer.

He took a swig of the whiskey. It had ceased to burn on its way down, or he was too drunk to care. He wasn’t sure he could ever bring himself to like the taste, though. Anyone who said they started drinking because they liked the taste was a liar.

The water was dark; it always seemed so much darker in the winter. He wondered how deep it was.

Would he find the bottom before hypothermia hit him and he didn’t care anymore? Or was he so full of booze that he’d just float along the surface, dying while he stared up at the sky?

“It can’t be that bad,” said a quiet voice off to his left.

Tony’s head snapped up, and he found himself face to face with… a guy who was in the water? That wasn’t possible, he’d be dead. Was he a ghost? Tony didn’t really believe in ghosts, but he did believe in hypothermia, and in this case it seemed that one had to cancel the other out.

The young man was gorgeous. Long black hair, piercing eyes that Tony could tell were green, even from five feet away in the dying winter twilight. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, either.

“What the fuck?” Tony asked eloquently.

The young man cocked his head to one side. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you propositioning me?”

Tony’s mouth fell open. “What?” Not that it seemed like a bad idea, but where had the guy gotten that idea?

“I’ve been given to understand that ‘fuck’ is a reference to fornication,” he replied.

“What the…” Tony sighed. “It’s an expression of shock. Like… how is a guy swimming in the frozen water, and not a popsicle?”

The young man nodded. “It is quite cold. And I am given to understand that you land dwellers cannot stand such low temperatures. Which is why I presumed from your contemplative stare that you intended to end your life. You would not be the first being to jump from this bridge.”

Okay, so maybe the ghost thing was looking more and more like a possibility.

“Did, um, did you do it?” he asked. He didn’t want to pry, and he imagined that committing suicide was a private thing, but he wanted to know more.

“Did I do what?” the handsome stranger asked. “Jump? I’m afraid I can’t.”

Hot guy in the water. Land dwellers. Can’t jump.

The whiskey in Tony’s brain was making him fuzzy, and he was sure there was an obvious explanation that he was missing.

“You’re not a ghost,” Tony informed him, as though that would make it so.

Apparently it worked, because the young man agreed. “I’m not a ghost. I’m an exile. Self-exiled, I suppose.”

Tony cocked his head. “You’re… what?”

There was a noisy sigh, followed by the man moving closer to him in the water. The motion was oddly smooth and sinuous, a glide instead of a step. “Can we go back to the sexual propositioning? I know it wasn’t, but you’re rather pretty, and I’d much prefer flirting to serious discussion.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine. Wanna fuck?”

It was his new friend’s turn to blink repeatedly. “Just like that?”

“I’m not exactly overflowing with options,” Tony retorted. It wouldn’t be the first time he was accused of being easy. Could be the last, though. He looked back over the black water, its surface shimmering in the last rays of the setting sun. Tony wasn’t a fan of poetry, but it did seem somehow poetic.

“While I’d love to take you up on that, I think it’s going to have to wait a few months.” The young man came to the very edge of the bridge, right in front of Tony, almost blocking—no, definitely blocking—his way into the water. “I’m Loki, by the way.”

“Tony,” he answered automatically. Then, “wait, why is it going to have to wait a few months?”

Loki laughed, and the sound was low and melodic. “I had such high hopes that you’d be smart as well as pretty.”

“Hey!” Tony protested, “I’m plenty sma—”

That was when Loki braced his hands on the bridge on either side of Tony and pulled himself up. His tail. Pulled his tail up.

For possibly the first time in his life, words completely failed Tony.

“Since you can’t come in, and I can’t come out… well, it is sort of limiting, as far as sex goes.” Loki grinned the whole time he spoke, the mischievous little shit.

“I could build you a tank,” Tony countered.

Loki shuddered at that. “I think not. I won’t be trapped on land with no escape.”

Suddenly, all thoughts of the river were gone, except in how useful it could be to Tony’s needs. “Isn’t this water brackish?”

“If you mean a wretched mix of the ocean and the disturbing flat water that comes from land, then yes,” Loki confirmed.

“So you’d prefer the ocean?” That was interesting. Tony bit his lip, thinking hard. “Why aren’t you further out?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I did say self-exile, didn’t I? It’s not much of an exile if they find me and make me go back.”

“So you ran aw—” Tony cut himself off as Loki gave him a dark look. “What about a man-made system that attaches to a tank? Like a canal?”

“Desperate, are we?” was the immediate joke, and Tony couldn’t disagree. Maybe not desperate for sex, but desperate for something to focus on that wasn’t… what he’d been focused on. Desperate for company that didn’t care more about a car than his own son’s dark contemplations of the river.

Plus there was the whole ‘where no man had gone before’ aspect of inter-species sex. Or, given what Tony knew of piscine biology, more likely Loki going where no fish-man had gone before.

“I like to be able to invite my bedmates over for the night, what can I say?” Tony grinned at Loki. “What do you say, want a room at my place?”

Lowering himself back into the water, Loki took Tony’s hand and kissed it. “I’d like that. But of course, that means no jumping in the water… This is too cold even for me.”

New York winters could be pretty awful.

That was when Tony had the epiphany. “Wait. You don’t like the cold?”

“Does anyone?”

Tony didn’t really like it, either. Even more, he didn’t like Howard.

“How do you feel about California?” he asked, grinning.


	4. Happy Father's Day, Howard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is in the middle of his summer semester at school. He meets a stranger, and they bond over something they have in common: the worst fathers ever.

Most kids went home for the summer. They wanted to take time off, to party with their friends, to hang out with their families.

Tony took a full-time-plus course load over the summer semester. Three or four classes left him no time to go home, no time to party, and definitely no time for his family. People said he was pushing himself too hard, that he’d burn out if he wasn’t careful. They told him he should go spend time with his family.

People were idiots.

Three classes in the summer wasn’t any harder than five in the spring. In fact, with the tiny number of students who bothered taking summer classes, he had all the time and professorial attention he needed and then some. He’d just finished his semester project for his most important class, and it was still June. So few people had bothered staying for the summer that he was the only one in the engineering department’s quiet computer lab. Even future scientists needed the summer off, it seemed.

So he was sitting in an empty computer lab on a Sunday afternoon. The only sound was the soft whirr of the fans in the cheap school computers and the occasional cracking flicker of fluorescent lights above him. He felt tiny and alone.

So insignificant.

Just like his father thought he was.

He didn’t know why he bothered anymore, but he’d called that morning to wish Howard a happy father’s day. Jarvis had inquired, and then apologetically informed him that Howard was ‘terribly busy, Master Stark, but I’ll tell him for you.’

Jarvis would, of course, not that Howard would care. That was the part that killed Tony. He didn’t even need Howard to be one of those fathers who threw a ball with him, or took him places, but answering the phone to talk to his son on father’s day? You’d think that was a no-brainer.

Tony sniffed, wiping his face on the sleeve of his shirt. His reflection in the computer monitor was awful; he looked like he’d been on a bender, and probably not slept in days.

He shook his head violently. No. He wouldn’t let fucking Howard Stark do this to him. Not again. Not when they weren’t even in the same goddamned state.

He turned to grab his bag, and that was when he heard it: a strange static-like sound, combined with hysterical giggling out in the hall. He was reasonably sure that he was the only student in the engineering wing, and even he wasn’t technically supposed to be there. The Burison building was supposed to be locked up tight for the weekend, it’s just that Tony was… skilled in engineering principles.

Really, standard six pin locks were hardly enough security for a building in the science department. Even if the computer lab wasn’t full of state-of-the-art computers that deserved the best security, they should probably have had _some_ security.

The static sound broke off, and the light directly over Tony’s head flickered. Was he in a horror movie all of a sudden?

Then there was a rhythmic clacking, like… like a paint can? Static noise. Spray paint. Shit. Was he gonna get caught breaking and entering on campus _again_? Howard hated him enough when he didn’t get into trouble.

Wait, why would school employees be using spray paint? They wouldn’t.

Tony flipped headed out into the hallway, moving as quietly as his rubber-soled sneakers allowed, which was surprisingly quiet.

The hallway lights were off, but the ambient light from the windows in all the adjacent rooms was enough to see clearly. He saw the back of a slender masculine body, spray pain can in his raised right hand, half empty liquor bottle in his left.

There was a long empty wall between the two opposing classrooms with nothing but a dedication plaque on it, explaining that Odin Burison had paid for the building, so it was named after him and his kind philanthropy. (There was a rumor that the old man had paid for the building so that the school wouldn’t kick his son out for starting a brawl in the cafeteria.)

The plaque was covered with black paint, and there was a very well painted (anatomically correct!) penis that appeared to be peeing on it. The young man who was responsible for it giggled a bit as he turned to fill in a spot with his paint can. Tony caught a glimpse of his face in profile, and it was gorgeous.

Tony had, in fact, never wished harder that he was more than just barely eighteen. His professors took him seriously enough, being the son of one of their biggest benefactors. He could get trashed easily enough, since he knew a fellow upperclassman who was twenty three, and more than willing to buy Tony booze for a nominal fee.

But even at eighteen, no one at school took him seriously in a romantic or sexual sense. He was the Stark kid, the boy genius. He was no one anyone wanted to date, unless they wanted to ask him all kinds of suspicious questions about SI and his theories.

Tony Stark, boy genius and graduate student, had never even been on a goddamned date.

Gorgeous creatures like the one defacing the wall didn’t give him a second glance. He supposed he could play the twink, go out and pick up older men. It wasn’t really what he wanted, though. He wanted to connect to someone anywhere near his own goddamned age for a change.

The man in front of him lost his focus, letting the arm with the paint can drop for a moment. He threw back his head and took a swig from the bottle in his left hand. Johnny Blue. Nice. His adam’s apple bobbed as the swallowed, and he let the hand that held the bottle fall back to his side as he sighed in something that looked like either contentment or ecstasy.

Tony really wanted to know which it was.

“You got enough there for company?” he asked, before he’d thought it all the way through.

The young man spun on his heel and stared for a long moment, processing. He looked Tony over once, obviously to assess him as a threat. Then he followed it up with another sweep of his gaze, this one with a distinctly different expression.

Heat filled Tony’s cheeks, and his heart pounded. Was he being checked out?

A slow grin filled the man’s face as he slowly held up both hands. “Which one?” he asked, amusement filling his voice.

And what a voice it was, smooth and deep with a distinctly British accent.

“Both,” Tony grinned in response, and took a step forward. “Definitely both.”

“Well I was going to write ‘Fuck Burison’ here,” he pointed to a section of wall. “But there’s probably enough room to write something else, if you want.”

“How about ‘Fuck fake philanthropists’?” Tony countered. It had the benefit of sort of including his father in it.

“Ooooh,” the young man said, stepping back to look at the section of wall he was talking about. “I like it. You must know him, hm?”

Tony racked his brain. He was sure he must have met the man at some point, but he didn’t recall. Probably at some boring party. He shrugged. “Not especially, but I figure anyone who pays for a whole building to keep his son from getting expelled is probably an asshole.”

It occurred to him the second the words left his lips that the young man in front of him could be that son. It seemed confirmed when the shoulders tensed, but then the response seemed wrong. “Everyone knows it, do they? He denies it, you know.”

“It’s what people say,” Tony hedged.

“ _You both have to succeed or fail on you own merit_ ,” the young man said in a pompous sounding tone, a comical look of stern arrogance on his face. “ _I wouldn’t help Thor if he had gotten in trouble, so I won’t help you, Loki._ ”

Loki. Oh, that was gonna stick in Tony’s brain forever. Gorgeous, clever enough to let himself into the building on the weekend, had a crappy father, and named after a god of mischief. He was officially Tony’s ideal man.

“Why are you in trouble?” Tony asked, walking up next to Loki and grabbing the bottle. He took a swig, and it burned on the way down. Ouch.

Loki rolled his eyes. “They won’t let me apply to the master’s program, because I have a failing grade on my transcript.”

Tony scowled, and traded the liquor bottle for the paint can. “But Thor started a brawl in the cafeteria and got away with it?”

Loki snorted. “Bastard probably thought it was appropriately manly, starting a brawl. Whereas failing one stupid religion class makes me persona non grata forever.”

“Religion?” Tony couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice. “Are you getting your masters in religious studies?” When Loki gave him a horrified look in response, he continued, “then who the hell cares that you failed a class about religion?”

“He doesn’t,” Loki shook his head, suddenly looking like Tony had spent the whole day feeling. “He just seems to enjoy my failures. _Not so smart now, are you Loki? Always thinking you’re more clever than your brother, and look what it gets you_.” He lapsed back into what Tony was going to call ‘Odin-speak’ for the last two sentences, and Tony felt those words like a knife to the gut.

_Smart doesn’t get you everywhere in life, Tony. You have to actually have some substance, too._

“I’ll bet someone could figure out how to make that F disappear,” he muttered, almost to himself.

He hadn’t spent a lot of time using spray cans, but he figured it couldn’t be too different from the whip cream ones, right? It sprays in a different direction, but… shake can, hold button, draw penis. He put the can where he wanted to start, and in his very best handwriting, started on the word ‘fuck’.

“Not bad,” Loki said from behind him. “You’re a natural at this. Smart, good with a can of paint, and possessing a fine ass…”

Tony quirked an eyebrow and looked back at where Loki was watching him paint. “Fine ass?”

“What?” Loki asked, not even slightly defensively. “Even if you’re straight, a compliment’s a compliment, right?”

“I guess as long as you’re not catcalling me on the street,” he accepted easily. Fuck that, he was drinking it up. Loki liked his ass. He wondered how much Loki liked his ass. Was it unacceptable to get drunk and have angry sex with a hot guy because they both hated their fathers?

“No catcalling, got it.” Making a check on an imaginary list in front of him, Loki looked up curiously.  “What’s your position on groping? Or should I at least know your name before groping?”

“Tony. And groping’s good,” Tony nodded, then cocked his head. “Of course, I should ask for a demonstration before agreeing to anything.”

Loki grinned again, and walked up behind Tony. Reaching over to cover the hand holding the paint can, Loki handed Tony the liquor bottle again with his left hand, then let it slide down to the curve of Tony’s ass. The two of them finished the insulting phrase together. When they stepped back in unison, Tony couldn’t hold back his own grin. When he felt Loki’s left hand give a firm squeeze, the grin got even bigger.

“Wanna go back to my place?” he asked his new friend.

“That depends, Tony,” Loki whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Does your place have pizza and condoms?”

Tony’s breath caught. Fuck. In almost four years, he hadn’t so much as been flirted with, and suddenly there was Loki wanting… “Not yet, but it can.”

*

The next morning Howard Stark woke to a voicemail message.

Hey dad. Just wanted to let you know that I’m gay, and I’m about to get on a plane with a guy I just met today. We’re going to Vegas for the week. Happy Father’s Day.


	5. Paid With a Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from locusinbloom on Tumblr.
> 
> Avenger!Tony rescues Villain!Loki from danger and is unexpectedly rewarded with a kiss.

It was kind of an open secret that Thor’s brother was crazy.

Okay, no, it wasn’t. It was just open. Dude tried to take over New York with a gang of hive-mind aliens, while attracting all the attention he possibly could from the people who could stop him.

Sometimes Tony wondered if he wanted his plans to fail.

The current one, for instance.

Loki was actually choosing to work with Amora, who had proven time and again that she would turn on him if she thought it would get her what she wanted. For reasons Tony believed to be beyond comprehension, Amora wanted Thor.

No, seriously.

She had over six feet of uber-powerful Asgardian standing beside her, prepared to help her take down the Avengers (okay, Bruce and Tony, everyone else was otherwise occupied) and she had decided to ignore that for a chance to get with big blonde and… well, not much else. No offense to Thor, but he just wasn’t the most useful tool in the box.

A _tool_ , sure…

“In New Mexico?” she shrieked. “With _that woman_?” And she was gone in a puff of pink smoke, leaving Loki holding the bag. Also leaving Loki in the path of one pissed off Bruce.

A nuclear Bruce, in fact.

Tony was immediately thrown back in time two years, to finding a bruised and broken god lying on the floor of his penthouse, looking like he wanted to die. At the time, the Hulk had been distracted by the actual alien invasion and not stuck around to finish the job.

“Hulk, buddy?” Tony tested, and got a growl for his trouble. He edged up next to his friend and almost got swatted to the pavement.

Amora had an unfortunate flair for the dramatic and seemed to enjoy putting children in danger. Not too many thing sent Bruce over the edge anymore, but that was definitely The Hulk and not Bruce Banner.

Ducking Hulk’s ham-sized fist, Tony decided not to even try playing games with the big angry green dude. He took to the air and was about to run for it, when two things flashed through his mind. One, Loki, broken and bleeding. (Again. Weird.) Also, the masses of property damage that Bruce was about to unleash.

Diving toward the ground where Loki was standing, he yelled, “Better get ready for the ride of your life, Snape.” He pulled back up at the last minute, trying to cushion the blow a bit, but he was pretty sure he’d knocked the breath out of Loki, who gasped.

Carrying Loki bridal style, he turned and headed north, right along the edge of the water. The Hulk pursued, as intended. He didn’t want to lose the big guy till they were well into the middle of nowhere.

Fortunately and unexpectedly, Loki didn’t complain or try to hit him. And he wasn’t even unconscious! The day hadn’t started off so well, but sometimes Tony had the feeling that there was a luck deity somewhere who liked him.

Half an hour in, it occurred to him that Loki was so quiet that he should probably be worried. Loki wasn’t the type to be quiet and unobtrusive for long periods of time unless he was planning something. It was one of the reasons Tony liked him so much.

But Tony didn’t like him.

Loki was a bad guy, and he liked to cause trouble, and destroy things, and make Thor looks like a dumbass in front of everyone…

(Actually, if one replaced ‘Loki was a bad guy’ with ‘Tony was a pain in the ass’, the sentence would continue to be true in the eyes of most everyone. Possibly including Tony.)

When he looked down at Loki, he found intense green eyes staring up at him. That made him squirm a little bit. “Everything okay there, Prince Charming?”

Loki cocked his head and quirked a brow. He mouthed out ‘prince charming’, as though testing the words for some cruel hidden joke.

“What?” Tony asked defensively. “You’re a prince. You charm people. You gonna try to throw me now?”

Loki just shook his head and then shielded his face from the wind by… turning it into Tony’s chest.

Which did not affect Tony at all. In any way. He kept checking behind them in his rear cameras, making sure Hulk was following.

An hour in, Hulk started slowing down noticeably. Tony slowed slightly, not to keep up the chase, but so that he’d know where Bruce dropped.

Sure enough, somewhere around Nova Scotia, there was no more green menace in the rearview mirror. Tony did a neat turn, and Loki tensed in his arms. “Relax, Sweetums, I’m pretty sure Bruce just degreenified.”

Loki gave him another unreadable look, but nodded.

It didn’t take him long to find Bruce via the tracker the two of them had implanted for just such situations (secretly, of course—like he was ever going to let the government know that he could track the Hulk). He was wearing the remnants of his purple sweatpants, and curled up in a tight ball in the snow.

Tony landed and set Loki carefully back on his feet, but Loki was frowning. “He looks considerably less terrifying when he’s dying of hypothermia.”

“Most of us do, don’t we?” As usual, Tony was full of false confidence. How the hell was he going to get Bruce out of the cold before he froze?

Loki knelt down beside Bruce, actually looking concerned. That was weird. “Come here, Stark.”

Without thinking, Tony went.

Loki put one hand on Bruce’s back and snaked the other one up around Tony’s hip to grab his (hey!—oh, right, armor covered) ass. There was a drop in his stomach, like the first second of a rollercoaster ride, and everything went black.

Then a heartbeat later, they were in the same position, in the middle of the tower.

Tony spent a full two seconds processing before blurting out his realization. “You didn’t need my help at all!”

Loki grinned that ultra-wide manic crazy trickster grin of his. “But a prince is always appreciative when offered aid.”

Tony flipped the catch in the back of his helmet and disengaged it, pulling the whole thing off. “It was a complete waste of your time. I mean, I’d have had to do it anyway, with Bruce, but you didn’t have to…”

“And turn down a rescue from my knight in shining armor?” Loki asked, the grin fading into something a bit softer. “No one has ever rescued me before, Tony Stark.” Then the smile slipped altogether, and Loki leaned in to place a soft kiss on Tony’s lips. “I believe that is the standard payment for one rescue,” he whispered softly.

Tony reached up to press his fingertips to his lips. He blinked.

(He wondered what two rescues would get him.)


	6. Loki is Dead, Long Live Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from an anon on tumblr: Loki dies saving Tony's life (they weren't a couple but just beginning to become friends). Tony cannot stop thinking about it and a year later Thor brings his little brother (kid!Loki or Teen!Loki or 20something!Loki, you decide) to Avengers Tower.

Tony wasn’t going to say that he had quit drinking before the incident. Saying that Tony had quit drinking was like saying that a fish had ceased to use water. It just wasn’t a valid possibility. He had slowed down, though.

The Loki had happened.

The Loki Incident had happened. (It felt like something that deserved a capitalized title)

It hadn’t even been one of Tony’s usual grand gestures, trying to get himself killed to save New York, or Malibu, or a pile of kittens. He wondered if it would have been better that way.

If it had meant something more.

But no, it had been Batroc. Batroc the fucking leaper, loser extraordinaire, with some gun he’d stolen from Richards and his crew, and Tony not moving fast enough. But the gun was the thing, wasn’t it?

Had Loki assumed that a gun made by mere mortals couldn’t affect him?

“That’s it, you know,” he told Pepper. “He figured no stupid human gun could hurt him.”

Then he remembered that Pepper wasn’t there. She didn’t come around too much anymore when it wasn’t about work, or her little crush on… oh fuck it all, he didn’t even know. Too-perfect-Steve? Scary-as-fuck Natasha?

Jarvis’ soothing voice was there though. “I’m sure you’re right, Sir.” Ahh, Jarvis. His father, his son, his voice of reason. The only one who never walked out on him, even at his lowest. “Even though you were all given the information about the stolen weapon beforehand. I’m certain Master Loki simply ignored the clearly marked warning that the weapon was specifically made able to injure Asgardians.”

Fucking Jarvis.

“He wasn’t even fucking Asgardian, Jarvis!” Tony shook his whiskey filled tumbler in the direction of the nearest camera. “Bet he thought he’d be immune ‘cause he was a giant.”

“Naturally, Sir.” Jarvis agreed. “And suggesting that his motives were foolish and arrogant make you feel better?”

“Fuck you, Jarvis.” Tony put his head down on the bar.

A year. It had been one year to the day that Loki had jumped in front of a goddamned gun to save his worthless fucking life.

He felt like he’d barely even known the guy. He’d come back, forced to join the Avengers to atone for his misdeeds, and to both their eternal surprise, Tony had found that he actually liked the guy. Sure, he was good looking, and obnoxious, and way too much like Tony for anyone not to look at them and draw a parallel… but he’d been funny, too, and a great hand with the pranks. And super fucking smart.

Smart enough to know that goddamned Reed Richards’ goddamned gun could kill him.

And he’d just done it. No hesitation, no fear, no dramatic demands that he be remembered. Just the little ‘o’ his mouth made when the blast hit him in the back. No noise, no dramatic anything, just all the breath leaving him at once, and then not coming back.

Tony didn’t really remember much else about the day. Or the week that followed. There was a lot of scotch in what few memories he had.

People weren’t supposed to die for Tony Stark anymore.

He woke with a jerk when the tower’s proximity alarm went off. He was still sitting on a barstool, tumbler grasped in one hand. He’d also drooled everywhere, and his mouth tasted like some combination of death and wood varnish.

It was always good to have visitors when he was as his best.

“It appears to be Thor,” Jarvis informed him as the door to the balcony slid open. “And, erm… Loki.”

Tony let his head drop back down to the dark hardwood bar. “Fuck you Jarvis. Go to hell.”

“Friend Tony, you should not treat your computer man with such disrespect!” Thor’s annoying voice boomed, feeling like it came from inside his own head.

“Ow, fuck, seriously, Thor? Give a guy a break.” He crossed his arms on the bar and tried to bury his head in them to block out some of the sound, and light, and… world.

There was a low whistle that seemed all wrong for Thor, followed by something Tony couldn’t make out in a tone that seemed… He pulled his head up, and cringed at the pain it caused.

The voice, though, it was still there, still talking. “…one seriously swankified place, Bro.”

That was absolutely not possible. Tony turned himself on the stool, trying not to topple over in either pain or drunken clumsiness.

No, it was definitely not possible. It wasn’t Loki. It sounded kind of like Loki, and it looked kind of like Loki, and… but he was a kid. Couldn’t be more than twenty.

It wasn’t Loki.

“Is this a bad time for you, Mr. Stark?” Not-Loki asked, sauntering up to him with Loki’s arrogant grace. “You look like you’re not having the best day.”

Tony just stared.

“Are you okay?” The young man started to look seriously concerned.

Thor stepped forward and put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Friend Tony, I would like you to meet my brother,” Baldr, maybe? He was one of Thor’s brothers, right? Some other Norse guy Tony had never heard of? Maybe being gorgeous and irreverent ran in the (adopted?) family. Nope. “Loki,” Thor finished matter-of-factly, as though he hadn’t been there to watch Loki die.

“Loki,” Tony choked out. “Not Loki.”

“Ooooh,” the kid said. “Don’t worry about that. I mean, I’m not here to mug you or anything. I’ll even try to keep the pranking to a minimum. Probably.”

Thor smiled, some cross between pleased and pained. “It is a long story, Tony. But he is my brother.”

“So,” Loki grinned at him, and it was so familiar. “Which room is mine?”

Tony looked at the tumbler in his hand. The ice had melted and the whole thing had gone room temperature.

He downed it.


	7. That Was One Time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is from FoxyOwl, on the genre mashup prompts. She asked for: “Cross-dressing, psychic connection, culinary AU. (This is mostly for the cross-dressing, of course.)”

He was in the middle of slicing shallots for a sauce when the first image hit him.

Loki, in a dim room, opening a white box—like one of those boxes ugly Christmas sweaters came in. This box did not contain an ugly sweater, though. All he caught was a flash of red satin before the link was cut.

He really hated it when Loki toyed with him like that. He turned to drop the shallots into a saucepan and found Rhodey looking at him funny. “What?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” his annoying sous chef answered, smirking. “Just got that look on your face.”

He wasn’t going to answer that. It didn’t deserve an answer. Damn Rhodey and his having known Tony for more than a decade. He offered his friend a two fingered salute, and went the retrieve the butter from where he’d left it.

“So we’re not reducing the wine first anymore?” Rhodey interrupted him again.

He slammed the butter back down on the counter and grabbed the wine bottle, tempted to take a swig for himself. It wasn’t like the customers would know. And he could call it a taste test if anyone asked. Testing was important, dammit!

Why had he put anything with béarnaise on the menu again? It was a stupid sauce that took way the fuck too much time and effort, and it wasn’t even that good. He should just give the philistines hollandaise with some shallots, capers, and tarragon tossed in. They probably wouldn’t know the difference.

Except for damned Pepper Potts and her poison pen. Jesus fuck, she’d almost gotten him knocked down a star with her last review. _Might as well go home and eat mom’s meatloaf,_ indeed. The woman had no idea what Biftek Haché à la Lyonnaise was supposed to taste like, obviously.

Of course, it wasn’t on the menu anymore, no matter how much Tony liked it. The unwashed masses had spoken, and if Pepper Potts didn’t like it—

Another flash of red clouded his vision. A pair of red satin panties being held up for inspection in front of him—in front of Loki. What the fuck was Loki doing with panties? When they were held down for a slim pale leg to step into, it became quite apparent what Loki was doing with red satin panties.

He was fucking wearing them.

Tony’s hand slipped and wine sloshed dangerously out onto the flame, flaring for a moment before burning itself out.

“Gonna try to burn the kitchen down again, Tony?” Rhodey’s voice came from behind him.

“That was one goddamned time, asshole,” Tony answered irritably. “Remind me why I pay your obnoxious ass again?”

Rhodey laughed at that. “Because I’m the only one who doesn’t piss you off in the kitchen. Well, that and I cover your ass when your husband manipulates you into running home in the middle of the busiest night of the week to fuck him.”

“That’s funny, I thought you were doing a pretty awesome job at pissing me off right now,” Tony countered. “And Loki doesn’t do that. I don’t do that. Fuck you!”

Rhodes just laughed him off, setting a pair of finished plates out for a server.

He focused on the sauce. He was not going to burn down the kitchen. He hadn’t burned down the kitchen last time, either! It had just been a tiny grease fire.

That ended with the fire department being called.

On the other hand, he’d had to close down the restaurant early that night, and the payoff for getting home before midnight had been… yeah, totally worth the price in dollars.

That was when he found himself looking down at stocking-clad legs, one braced on the bed as a garter was attached to the front. Fuck, had Loki _shaved_? No one’s legs looked that good in stockings, not even Loki’s.

Without even realizing it, he’d allowed his head to fall back, and he groaned.

“So when you gonna give up for the night, man?” Rhodey asked him, at the same time as he deftly saved the béarnaise reduction from Tony’s limp hands. “Seriously, when he gets like this, you know there’s only one way it ends.”

Tony frowned at that. “That’s not true!”

Was it?

“Dude. Just give up. You’re totally fucking cock-whipped,” Rhodey said, smiling. “And let’s be honest, is that a bad thing? You have a hot husband at home who wants to fuck you, and you’re willing to do anything for him. Jeez, sounds like torture to me.”

His mind’s eye skipped to the full length mirror in his bedroom. Loki, hair streaming over his shoulders like some kind of damned supermodel. He was wearing a corset. A fucking corset. Crimson satin all down his chest, laced tightly with a gold ribbon. Fuck. Loki knew he couldn’t resist that.

Loki wearing Tony’s favorite colors? Giving him _that_ look in the mirror?

He’d known the whole psychic connection thing was gonna bite him in the ass, but at the time, he’d been all ‘so convenient, don’t have to reach for the phone’. He hadn’t thought about all the things Loki could do to him, with a direct link into his brain.

The worst part was that he wasn’t even sorry.

“Dude, go home,” Rhodey said. “You’re of no use to anyone hanging out here sporting wood. Either take it to someone who wants it, or get your damn head in the game.” Rhodey paused with a spoon to his mouth as he tested the wine reduction, and looked back at Tony. “No, you know what, definitely go. I don’t need you standing there creeping me out when I’m trying to _impress_ Potts this time. Maybe if she knows you didn’t cook her dinner, she’ll give us a good review.”

The bed. Loki lying back on the bed, running his hands down the corset, so slippery smooth beneath his hands. He toyed with the ribbon as though he would undo it, but then instead, he slipped his fingers beneath the edge of the crimson panties, running them softly down the underside of his cock.

Fuck, but Tony could feel the answering stimulation in his own body.

“Jarvis?” Rhodey called to the head waiter when he slipped into the kitchen to grab a plate.

“Sir?” came the immediate answer.

“Get Tony a cab, would you?” Rhodey sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “So he doesn’t get in a car accident on the way home to screw his husband.”

“Dammit Rhodey,” Tony glared at him. “That was one time!”


	8. A Hedonistic Lifestyle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt from usedupshiver: Mixing up AUs prompt: Coffee shop/Urban fantasy/Crime and criminals... :D
> 
> This one is the likeliest yet to become a full story...

Sorry, guys, this chapter has been at least temporarily deleted, as I'm writing it into a novel, and don't want a professor to accuse me of plagiarizing my own work.


	9. Under My Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is from JustWondering here on AO3, who asked for: Tony and Loki are a secret thing, and when Tony tries to end it, Loki gives him a magical tattoo that disappears and reappears in awkward places, until Tony relents and comes back. I picture the tattoo appearing whenever Loki crosses Tony's mind, and being painful as it appears so Tony can't easily hide it in meetings with the other Avengers. 
> 
> This doesn't exactly match, but hopefully you like it anyway JustWondering!

Snugging his tie up against his collar, Tony reminded himself that he was doing what he had to do. It was for the good of the team. For the good of everyone.

This was the way Tony Stark’s life worked. He found something he wanted, something for himself, and then he realized that it was something he couldn’t have. The rest of the world was more important that Tony’s happiness. Blissful, overwhelming, euphoria-inducing happiness.

Tony didn’t get to have that.

But he couldn’t put it quite that way to Loki.

Loki, who was staring at him in the mirror, a stunned expression on his face. Tony suspected it wasn’t a look that crossed the other man’s face often. And why would it? No one in their right mind would ever say the things he had said, much less to Loki.

Jesus, he hadn’t even waited until they were both dressed.

What the hell was wrong with him?

“You’re out of your mind,” Loki said. His tone said that it was the only possible answer, and part of Tony agreed with him. Screw that, all of Tony agreed with him. It was just that Tony didn’t get to make the decisions.

He turned back to look at Loki, lying naked in a pile of sweaty sheets, and realized that was a mistake. Looking was bad. Looking at the gorgeous, debauched man in his bed made him think about what Tony wanted, not what the Avengers needed.

“Maybe so, Loki,” he agreed. Why was his voice so damned quiet? He could talk loud enough to command the attention of a roomful of people, surely he could have one conversation with his _ex_ -lover without losing his ability to speak. “But it doesn’t change anything. I’m an Avenger, and you’re… Loki of Asgard. This doesn’t work out. Either you kill me, or the team finds out about it and they kill me, and I’m not really a fan of either option.”

“Do you think I’m going to kill you now?” Loki asked. “Are you trying to goad me into killing you, so that you won’t have to deal with this?”

Tony flinched, trying not to acknowledge that the idea had crossed his mind. It seemed for the best, really. Sure, Pepper was always complaining about his suicidal tendencies, but most of the time Tony didn’t want to die. He was just pretty sure that this was going to kill him no matter what he did. Having Loki actually physically kill him seemed like a better option than pining himself to death like an eighteenth century romantic heroine.

“Why are you really doing this, Anthony?” Loki shoved the sheets off him and stood, still naked and sweaty and oh gods Tony had to look away before he just yanked his suit back off and… “What do you hope will come of this? I don’t think you’re foolish enough to believe this will be over when you walk out the door.”

Tony shook his head vehemently, as though sheer will could make everything right. “It has to be over, Loki.”

If sheer will could make everything right, Loki wouldn’t be on SHIELD’s most wanted list, and they could just move in together. He’d get to wake up every morning to miles of legs wrapped around him and a possessive hand planted on his chest, as he played little spoon to Asgard’s sexiest prince.

Loki put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around so they were face to face. That was pretty much exactly what Tony had not wanted from the situation. He tried to look down at Loki’s feet, but that firm possessive hand gripped his chin and dragged it up until he met livid green eyes.

Strange. He should be terrified. Loki was a bad guy. He stabbed Thor, and brought aliens to take over New York, and cut people’s eyes out. But Tony was no more afraid of Loki than he was of Pepper.

Which was, you know, a bit afraid.

“And you believe that I am going to allow this?” Loki asked, incredulous. “You know me, Anthony Stark. You know what I want. You know that I get what I want.”

“Yeah, well it’s not as simple as what you want, is it? You don’t get to allow or not allow. It is what it is, and that’s it.” Tony stood up straighter, trying to stare Loki down a little bit. He pretended he wasn’t talking to himself as much as Loki.

Loki just gave him an unimpressed look. “You’re being foolish.”

“I’m doing what has to be done.”

“And now stubborn,” Loki said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” Tony told him. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Shouldn’t have said that… Better if Loki just thought he was being a selfish child who wanted to sleep around.

Loki cocked his head and stared at Tony for a long moment, and then nodded. Why didn’t that make Tony feel better? Loki slid his hand up to cup Tony’s cheek. When he spoke, Tony felt an unfamiliar tension coil into him. It was like Loki’s fingers were a live wire, forcing their extra electrons into Tony’s skin. “Try to forget me, then, Anthony. And when you cannot, everyone around you will know it. And when you realize it that you are still mine, you will come back.”

Tony opened his mouth to deny Loki’s words, but the hand slipped down to stop him. “That wasn’t a request, Anthony. When you return, there will be groveling involved. You’ll enjoy it, of course, but you will beg.”

That made Tony flush and swallow hard. He’d only begged that one time, it wasn’t like he… was imagining doing it again. Of course he was. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to have to forget Loki.

Why couldn’t he ever have what he wanted?

When had he become such a whiny bastard?

He left Loki standing there in the room they’d shared. At least one of them believed they had a future. One of them was still looking forward to it.

That made him happier than it probably should.

He wouldn’t say that he forgot about the conversation, never that. But he tried as hard as he could to put it out of his mind as he went on with his life. He felt like he was stuck in a bleak, desaturated art film, though, where all of the protagonists speak short imperative sentences with no inflection.

Yeah, he was overdramatic. What of it?

He largely forgot about the almost-threat, though, until a week later in the lab. He was trying very hard not to muse on how much he wished Loki was there to suggest that they test out how much stress his desk could take by bending him over it.

“Sir?” Jarvis’ voice came over the speaker, drawing him out of the fantasy.

“What’s up, Jarvis?” he asked, assuming it was a warning of some impending invasion. Pepper or some rogue Avenger who wanted attention. Barton kept coming down to suggest new and different arrows that Tony, you know, could probably make. If he wanted. And Clint would be happy to help with any testing that needed done.

“You told me that you weren’t drinking last night, Sir,” Jarvis answered him enigmatically.

Tony frowned and looked at the nearest camera. “I wasn’t. Why?”

There was a pause, which did not help Tony’s nerves, followed by, “you appear to have gotten yourself a new tattoo, Sir.”

“What! Where? I did not!” Tony started twisting one way and the other, inspecting his skin. Nothing felt itchy or inflamed, and Tony sure as hell didn’t remember getting any—

“Your left shoulder, Sir,” Jarvis supplied helpfully.

Angling himself so he could see his left shoulder in the glass, Tony’s eyes rounded. He had not gotten a new tattoo.

Oh no he had not. 

He did, however, have a nearly photorealistic image of himself and Loki on his shoulder. Loki had him bent over his desk, and was pulling on a handful of his hair. The expression on both of their faces was… Tony’s cheeks warmed at the impure thoughts that flitted to the top of his head.

It was exactly what he’d been picturing only moments before. What was it Loki had said?

_Try to forget me, then, Anthony. And when you cannot, everyone around you will know it._

That was decidedly not okay. Not okay at all.

He bolted for the couch, where he’d carelessly thrown a sweatshirt a few days earlier, and tossed it over his head. “Jarvis, call Thor!”

“Right away, Sir.”

After a few moments, Thor’s sunny voice came across the line. “Friend Tony! Is there something you need my aid with, or have you called for another reason?”

Tony wondered what other reason he’d be calling for. No offense to Thor, but it wasn’t like they had a lot of interests in common. Except for Thor’s thrice damned brother, who was probably smirking at Tony’s predicament right then.

Wait. How was he supposed to explain the problem? _I have pornographic images of your brother on my body, and I think he put them there, how do I fix it?_ That didn’t seem like a great conversation starter.

“I’ve um, I’ve been working on this thing. With… Loki’s magic.” Yeah, good save. Now if only Thor was a complete idiot, it would be perfect. “See, I was thinking it would be good for us to have a way to counter it.” If that wasn’t the fucking truth, Tony didn’t know what was.

“I do not know how I can help you with that, though I would certainly like to. My brother’s tricks can be most irksome.” Thor sighed. “But even mother, who is skilled at such things, could not seem to remove the magic before it ran its course.”

“Its course?” Tony asked, trying to pretend his voice hadn’t just squeaked. “How long a course are we talking here, Thor?”

“Has my brother done something to you, Tony Stark?” Thor sounded genuinely concerned. “Do you need help?”

Tony went into full self-defense mode. “Nah. You know me, Thor, just always worried about the future. Loki made asses of us not so long ago, just trying to figure out how to keep it from happening again.”

Thor’s response was heavy with something that sounded like guilt. “I fear that defending against my brother is not a real option, my friend. We have tried, but his mind is simply too fast for most any to keep up with.”

Didn’t Tony fucking know it? That was half of what had attracted him to the bastard to begin with.

“Right. Thanks, Thor. Guess I’ll try a different tactic.” He disconnected the line before Thor had time to ask any more questions.

That night, he dreamed of his body covered in pornographic pictures of himself and Loki, doing every filthy thing they’d ever done together. Oh gods, what if the time he’d let Loki make him—he woke with a shudder, annoyed to find himself both terrified and turned on.

Then the horrified realization that he’d been thinking of Loki and sex in his dreams formed in his mind, and he jumped out of bed to look in the full length mirror.

Nothing.

No wait, literally nothing. The tattoo from the day before was gone.

Maybe the spell had played out? Yeah, that seemed likely.

But at least he was momentarily porn free.

He threw on a shirt over his boxers and padded out to the kitchen. He poured some almond milk onto the sugariest cereal he could find… which was honey nut cheerios, how depressing. He needed to buy one of those cereals with the marshmallows or the frosting. Or both. Did they have one with both?

Sitting himself down at the table, he munched away on his cereal. He willed himself not to react when Barton came in and started his usual toast and eggs.

“Want some sausage, Stark?” he asked casually. Casual was good, right? Oh god, what if it was an allusion to some horrific new picture on Tony’s body. Like the time he and Loki had been looking for midnight munchies in the kitchen, and Tony had decided on a different kind of meat?

Oh gods.

“No thanks, gotta go!” Tony announced, leaving his half full cereal bowl on the table and dashing for his bedroom.

He glared suspiciously at his reflection in the mirror when he got there. Nothing was immediately apparent. He pulled at the neckline of the shirt, checking both shoulders. As he turned back, he caught a flash of something dark before his shirt settled back over his stomach.

He whipped the bottom of his shirt up and sure enough, there across his abs was a picture of… oh wow. That had been such an awesome night. And the look on Loki’s face…

Tony stepped closer to the mirror to get a better look. His own eyes were focused on the task at hand, but Loki’s eyes were on him. There was a little smile on his face, and it wasn’t even a smirk. It seemed almost… soft.

“Hey Tony, you oka…” Clint was standing in the door to his bedroom, staring at his abs.

Tony shoved his shirt back down. “Seriously, Jarvis?”

“I do apologise, Sir,” Jarvis said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I didn’t realize that Agent Barton intended not to knock until it was too late.”

Clint was still staring at Tony’s shirt, where it covered the unfortunate tattoo. His eyes skittered up to Tony’s and then immediately away. “I’m gonna go make that… no. You know, I’m thinking no sausage. Eggs. Toast. That’s plenty. You want some eggs?”

“Not really,” Tony said, feeling sick. He couldn’t say anything if Barton was going to pretend nothing was wrong. Could he?

Should he?

He shook his head. “I think I’m gonna go back to bed. I don’t feel so hot.”

When he met Barton’s eyes for a second, he was pretty sure the emotion there was pity. Great. He had Clint Barton’s pity. He curled up in bed and ignored the world for a day.

The next morning he wanted to do the same. How could he live like this? Everywhere he went, everything he did, it all reminded him of Loki. And sex. Sex with Loki. And then he got to show everyone pictures of himself having sex with Loki. During which, of course, he had not exactly been the power top. He wasn’t sure if that would have made it okay, but it might have been a little less humiliating.

_Tony Stark, experienced bottom and occasional submissive_ , was not exactly something he wanted to add to his CV.

At nine am, Pepper tore into the room like a typhoon. Once again, Jarvis gave him no warning.

“Whose side are you on, Jarvis?” Tony whined as Pepper forced him into the shower because _god, Tony, you stink._

“Yours, of course, Sir,” Jarvis answered without hesitation.

Tony scowled. “Then why do you seem to be helping Loki?”

“Am I, Sir?” Jarvis asked innocently. “My programming tells me that I am doing what is best for you. Why would that and helping Loki be the same, Sir?”

Fucking Jarvis.

When he arrived at the breakfast table, Pepper had a huge breakfast set out. “Jarvis tells me you only ate half a bowl of cereal yesterday. I thought we were starting to get past this when you stopped spending all your time in the lab a few months ago, Tony.”

Dammit dammit dammit.

A few months ago, right around the time he and Loki had started their affair.

Tony groaned and tried not to think of Loki. Anything but Loki. Why did his whole life revolve around goddamned Loki? Why hadn’t he paid more attention in that transcendental meditation seminar back in college? (He’d only been there to get laid.)

“Tony?” Pepper’s soft voice interrupted him before he could conjure up today’s picture of shame. “Are you okay?” She looked genuinely concerned, which was always a bad sign. It meant she’d been angry, gotten past it, and there was actually something wrong. Which usually meant he was acting pathetic and self-destructive. But one day in his room wasn’t so bad, was it?

“I’m fine, Pepper,” he said in a voice that didn’t even sound a little bit convincing. “Why do you ask?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’ve spent the last week in the lab, not eating or socializing ever? Eat.” She shoved a plate of food at him.

Loki liked food.

One time he had discovered that canned whipped cream, and instead of doing ridiculous naughty things with it, he’d amused himself with just how much whipped cream could fit in the fascinating contraption. He’d sprayed bowls of it, then when the can finally ran out, he’d stuck a finger in it and started eating the stuff just like that, a ridiculous grin on his face.

He felt Pepper pull on his elbow, and was shaken out of the memory. “Tony. Why is there a picture of Loki on your arm?”

Fuck! No, he hadn’t been thinking about sex!

He looked down to find that ridiculous grin smiling back at him, and a tattoo of Loki licking whipped cream off a finger.

“Asshole,” Tony announced, not even sure who he was talking to, let alone what he meant.

Pepper just sighed and pushed the food at him again. It was like she wasn’t even surprised.

He ate.

The next day, Thor came to see him. Fucking Pepper and Jarvis.

“Has my brother done something to you, my friend?” Thor asked, not pulling the punch at all.

Tony looked away. He didn’t want to answer, because really, they had both contributed to the issue. It wasn’t that Loki was innocent so much as that Tony was also guilty.

“Tell me what he was done, friend Tony, that I might force him to stop,” Thor prodded.

Looking over at him sharply, Tony raised an eyebrow. “You know where Loki is? He’s wanted. You’re supposed to turn him in.”

Thor chuckled at that. “Any man who expects me to betray my brother will be waiting a very long time, Tony. I will attempt to stop him bothering people, but now that he is not allied with the aliens, even the Captain realizes that he is largely harmless. An annoyance, at most.”

Tony considered that statement. It was true that Loki had slipped off the ‘most wanted’ radar. He was still wanted, though. “I don’t think you can just choose who not to arrest, Thor.”

“Of course I can,” Thor said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “Are there not enough villains to chase who intend to injure people? Must we chase my brother for painting the empire state building green?”

“We could just… not chase him?” Tony asked hopefully. If he didn’t have to arrest Loki, then maybe…

Thor grinned. “It is what I do, my friend. Do you not intend to arrest my brother, either? I thought he had injured you.”

Tony sighed. He wondered if he could control it, if he tried, just a little bit. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the silliest, most saccharine sweet thing he and Loki had ever done. Probably the time they’d sat in bed half the day watching cartoons. No sex. Nothing controversial at all. Just hanging out and giggling like kids over Bugs Bunny.

“Oh,” Thor’s voice came, filled with understanding. “I believe that I begin to understand.”

Tony’s eyes flipped open, searching his skin for some sign of himself and Loki lying in his bed. Instead, he felt a firm hand come down on his shoulder. His head snapped up, and he found himself staring into those green eyes he’d been dreaming of.

“Two weeks,” Loki said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You stubborn, stubborn man. I didn’t think it would take you so long to think of trying to use it.”

“I missed you,” Tony’s voice burst forth without permission.

“And I missed you, you idiot,” Loki nodded in agreement. “Now you should leave, Thor. My dear Anthony has some groveling to do.”


	10. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freakinmi on Tumblr sent me this prompt: Let's try a mafia, arranged marriage, tech support frostiron AU :)
> 
> Hopefully it all works together. :D

Thor is slow to answer the door, and when he does, he can’t even look Loki in the eye.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” he sighs, looking down at where his toes are trying to tie the carpet in knots. “I can’t have a private conversation now. I have someone here working on my computer.”

Loki just blinks rapidly at him for a moment before a voice behind his brother interrupts.

“Well here’s your problem,” a scruffy guy in low-riding ripped jeans tells Thor. “You gotta stop visiting these adware-infested free porn sites.”

Thor, face glowing bright red, sputters. “I have never… would never!”

The guy raises a dubious eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything.

Loki is unimpressed. Of course Thor is too busy to talk to him. Thor is always too busy to talk to him when it’s about something uncomfortable. Today it’s because he’s clogged his computer up with porn, yesterday it was because poor Fandral was having a crisis—apparently a girl said the n-word to him, and Loki doesn’t mean the racial slur. The previous Friday Thor had gone so far as to agree to go on a date with Sif just to avoid talking to Loki.

He suspects he’ll find Thor busy every single time he tries to talk to him for the next three weeks. And after that, well, it will be irrelevant. After that, he’ll probably never see Thor again.

“Can’t you come out here for a minute, Thor?” Loki asks in exasperation, motioning to the hallway.

Thor gives him a meaningful look, then side-eyes the computer repairman.

Loki almost smacks his head on the doorjamb. Was Thor really so stupid that he kept important files on his desktop and called tech support?

Part of Loki wonders if it’s such a bad thing, being taken away from his family. It’s not as though any of them but Frigga ever gave a damn about him, and even she’s passing the current disaster off as normal and acceptable. It’ll stop so much violence, Loki. You have to think of others above your own needs, Loki. The family comes first, Loki.

The family has always come first, except when that family is Loki himself. Of course, they don’t mean the whole family when they say that. No aunts, uncles, cousins, or other relations are important. It’s Odin, and it’s Thor, and then it’s a blurry artificial construct of ‘the family’ that means the whole group of people working for and with the actual Borson family.

Being the adopted child, Loki has never quite managed to be one of them. They don’t trust him or like him, and he’s pretty sure they’re going to be pleased when he’s gone.

Especially Thor, because then he won’t have to deal with Loki’s pleas for help. For support. For even the tiniest notion that Thor agrees with him, and thinks the whole disaster is barbaric.

“Honestly, Thor,” he hisses, “you don’t think he’s too busy trying to fix whatever you’ve messed up to look at anything he shouldn’t?”

Thor shakes his head. “You can never be too careful, Brother.” He continues to avoid Loki’s eye.

The repairman is rebooting the computer, shaking his head and tutting sadly. “It’s a hell of a machine to be wasted on cheap porn and Windows office products.”

Fed up with his idiot brother, Loki smirks. “I thought you said it was free porn?”

The man half turns and flashes Loki a surprisingly white, even more surprisingly predatory grin. He might be cute, if not for the week of beard growth and the unflattering clothes. “Free porn, cheaply made. And they make their production costs back by clogging up the computers of undiscriminating people who download it with adware.”

“So since my idiot brother is paying you… fifty dollars an hour?” Loki pauses for response.

“A hundred,” the man’s grin widens.

Loki nods, not sure whether he’s more impressed or amused. “So really, he’s paying hundreds of dollars for free porn.”

The repairman chuckles, and starts typing on the keyboard of the rebooted computer. “Yep. Might as well just buy decent porn for what you pay me, then he wouldn’t have to be hovering over me, hoping I’m not trying to steal business secrets or whatever he’s so worried about.”

Loki laughs out loud. “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that. He’s not actually concerned about you stealing anything. He just doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Guess that’s one way to avoid serious family conversations,” the man frowns at the screen, pressing another series of buttons.

“Probably because no one here has ever really considered me family,” Loki throws out with a forced nonchalance.

Thor is not pleased. “Loki! That is not true. You’re as much my brother as anyone born of mother and father could be.”

Loki just rolls his eyes.

“If it makes you feel better,” the repairman throws in, “I’m gonna bill him for my travel time, too.”

The whole thing is so ridiculous, he wants to laugh.

“You know,” he tells the man. “It does make me feel better.”

He looks over at Thor, whose attention is back on the shag carpet, and it takes effort not to throw an actual bitch fit.

He’s thought about making a run for it. He has some cash saved for just such a purpose. If he thought he could manage three weeks without one of Odin’s goons catching him and dragging him back, he would already be gone.

“Do you have any brothers?” Loki asks the repairman faux-causally.

“Nope,” he answers. “Only child.”

Loki nods. “Then you’re lucky. You’ve probably never been in the awkward position of having your family sell you to some knuckle dragging thug as part of a business deal.”

The repairman says nothing, but raises his eyebrows in the near-universal “WTF” facial expression.

“Loki…” Thor says warningly.

Loki opts to ignore him, the same way Thor has been ignoring Loki for weeks. “It’s a family thing, you see. My family wants to make friends with this particular ruffian’s family, so they’ve decided the best way to do that is to tie us all together with marriage.”

“That sounds…” the man trailed off for a minute before finding the word he’d been looking for and continuing, “positively medieval.”

“I couldn’t think of a better description myself,” Loki agrees. “You see, it seems that my intended isn’t terribly picky. Since Thor dearest isn’t expected to make any sacrifices for _the family_ , and well, I’m gay anyway, obviously I’ll love being forced to marry some random Mafioso.”

The repairman frowns. “You ever even meet the guy?”

Loki shakes his head. “No. So you can see why my _brother_ doesn’t want to talk to me. Fear not, Thor, I’ll be gone for good soon enough. You only have to keep avoiding me for a few more weeks, and then you’ll never have to think about me again.”

Storming out of the room, he slams the door behind him. It’s childish and petty, but it makes him feel a little better. Telling the computer repair guy everything was childish, petty, and possibly dangerous, but what the hell does Loki care? Odin already made it clear that Loki was just a possession to him, to be used as currency when needed. And Loki has been sold to someone else, he’s just waiting the actual transfer of ownership.

He throws himself down on his own bed and glares at the ceiling. He doesn’t like the way the mess is making him act, but he feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get his frustration out.

A few moments later there’s a soft knock at his door. That’s odd. Frigga is off in Paris, and no one else in the house ever bothers to knock. His curiosity piqued, he sits up and says, “Yes?”

The door opens a few inches to reveal the computer technician.

What the hell is that about?

Instead of looking nervous, or smug, or any other thing Loki can think of to explain why the man would have come to see him, he looks concerned. “You okay?”

For a moment, all Loki can do is blink. “What?”

“I know it’s probably none of my business, but your family’s laid some pretty heavy crap on you, and it doesn’t seem like they’re, you know, supporting you.” The man frowns at his own words. “Damn, that sounds stupid.”

When the other man starts to back out of the doorway, Loki holds up a hand. “Wait. You actually came down here to say… that?”

The repairman shrugs. “You brother is currently paying me a hundred dollars an hour to use the bathroom, so I figure I’ve got a minute or ten.”

“And even having an inkling of the kind of people you’re working for right now, you’re willing to risk it?” Loki asks, caught between amusement and concern.

The man scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What, I’m supposed to be scared of the big bad Norwegian Mafia?”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even need me to tell you about who you were working for, did you?” Suspicion worms its way into his mind then, and he hangs his head. “Fuck my life, you work for Odin, don’t you?”

The man laughs out loud at that, and Loki can’t help but think it’s a lovely sound. Actual amusement, unlike both the fake laughter of Odin’s lackeys and the excessive drunken boisterousness of Thor and his minions.

Loki finds himself smiling. “So… no?”

“Not a chance,” the man agrees. “You ever think of cutting out on this whole wedding thing? Just flying off to Europe and giving both families the old two fingered salute?”

“All the time,” Loki answers without thinking. “But they’d catch me before I so much as picked up my boarding pass. Odin knows I want this as much as a dozen simultaneous root canals. He’s expecting to have to track me down.”

“But forcing you to get married, man,” the repairman shakes his head, making his dark hair fall into his eyes. “That’s gotta be illegal. Why don’t you tell the guy?”

“What?”

“The guy,” he repeats. “Tell the guy they’re making you marry that you don’t want it. You think he’ll make you, too?”

For the first time, Loki actually thinks about that. He’s never actually met the man. All of his information comes second or third hand, from Odin, or Thor, or Thor’s nitwit friends. They aren’t exactly reliable sources.

The repairman slips in and closes the door behind him. He walks in only far enough to sit gingerly on the end of the bed, not touching Loki. The expression on his face is serious, and he looks oddly like a different person than the man who’d been fixing Thor’s computer.

“You don’t work for Odin,” Loki realizes. “You work for Stark.”

“Not quite,” the man denies.

Loki cocks his head and looks at the man for a long moment, trying to understand his purpose. Was it a test of whether Loki could keep his mouth shut? Fail. Whether Loki could hold his temper? Double fail. Whether Loki would make a quiet little trophy husband? Fail doesn’t even cover it.

He mentally crosses his fingers and takes a shot in the dark. “So you came to see me before the deal is final to make sure Stark is getting his money’s worth?”

“I just wondered, you know?” The man says. “I mean, I don’t really have a choice. I want peace with the Borsons, I make the deal. You? You could get the hell out of here. I’ll buy you a damned plane ticket if you want, but I’m not gonna marry someone who doesn’t want any part of this.”

Loki freezes. It isn’t a Stark employee, it _is_ Stark. Tony Stark is sitting on the end of his bed, offering him a way out of bondage. “I called you a thug,” he blurts out.

Stark laughs again, even more amused and lovely than the first time. “A knuckle dragging thug, no less,” he agrees. “Gotta say, I was expecting someone like your brother. Not you.”

“Everyone wants someone like Thor,” Loki says. It always hurts a little, but for some reason this hurts more.

That brings out a grimace. “Is everyone really that stupid? Wait, don’t answer that.”

It’s Loki’s turn to laugh then, and it’s a good feeling. He hasn’t felt much like laughing since the night that Odin came home saying it was time for Loki to do his duty for the family.

“Well the bug I have downloading your brother’s computer files should be done in a minute, so I’d better get back,” Stark says to him. “But I’m serious. If you want out, I’ll make it happen.”

He slips out into the hallway and closes the door behind him.

Loki sits on his bed for another minute thinking, before grabbing his overnight bag. He has it pre-packed with all of his necessities. Truth be told, he’s kept it at the ready with a half-formed idea that he was going to run the night before the wedding.

Suddenly, though, it isn’t so much about escaping a fate worse than death. It’s about making a point.

Loki is the master of his fate, not Odin. Loki isn’t going to marry Tony Stark for Odin, or Thor, or _the family_.

He slips into the repair van just before Stark and Thor come out, Thor handing the man a check and looking slightly ashamed.

Stark barely raises an eyebrow when he finds Loki slumped down in the passenger seat. “So,” he asks casually while turning the key to start the vehicle, “Where in Europe do you want to go?”

“I’m not going to Europe,” Loki answers him seriously. “I’m getting married in three weeks, here in New York.”

That gets Stark’s attention. “Are you really? Anyone I know?”

“I hope so,” Loki gives him a wide smile. “He seems to be worth knowing.”

“But your family doesn’t approve,” Stark says, obviously still fishing for information, still uncertain that Loki is saying what he seems to be saying.

“They think he’s a knuckle-dragging thug,” Loki agrees. “But he’s the first person who ever put my wishes above their own.”

Stark turns his repair van onto the street leading back toward Manhattan. He’s silent for a long moment before nodding. “I think I might know what you mean.”

Loki grins. “And I can’t wait to hear what Odin does to sweeten the pot, since he can’t seem to keep his end of the bargain without your help in finding his wayward son.”


	11. Forbidden Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was requested by angerina, who gave me this prompt: Loki shifts into various random people, waiters, cooks, yadda, bit by bit making Tony eat an apple of Idunn. It might be just an appetizer here, a apple cupcake there, a drink with a piece of apple in it but in the end Tony becomes immortal. Keep it PG and fluffy, or make it full on porn, starting romance or established relationship, I don’t care, I know you’ll create something amazing :D
> 
> I planned it to come after prompt #5, wherein Tony saves Loki and is repaid with a kiss.

“Excuse me, miss?” Tony tried to get the attention of the swiftly disappearing waitress, but it was a lost cause. He sighed. “This is not my drink.”

She did have an exceptional derriere, though.

He glared accusingly at the neon green liquid with a piece of apple floating in it. An appletini, if it was to be believed. He’d had dates with people who ordered such drinks, but he hadn’t wanted to try one himself since long before he’d been legally able to drink.

Still, there was something to be said for the benefits of not having to go to the bar and demand that the problem be fixed. He shrugged and took a sip. Not disgusting, he supposed. Somehow both sour and sugary, but not disgusting.

He stared dolefully at the slice of apple in the middle of it. He was swiftly forming an odd relationship with apples.

 

*

 

Three weeks earlier:

“Jarvis, why is there a muffin on my pillow?” Tony said around his toothbrush as he sauntered out of the bathroom in the morning.

He could have sworn that hadn’t been there a few minutes before. In fact, he knew it. Fifteen minutes earlier, his head had been on that pillow, and he was certain he hadn’t been sharing his bed with a muffin.

“I couldn’t say, Sir,” Jarvis answered, apparently unconcerned.

Tony supposed it wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened in the tower. In fact, magically appearing muffins may have been the most mundane thing to surprise him in the tower. After the alien invasion, the Avengers initiative, and Nick Fury’s visit from beyond the grave, a muffin seemed downright innocuous.

Besides, it was apple cinnamon. He liked apple cinnamon muffins.

After showering and dressing, he went back and picked it up. He peeled the paper off and took a bite, only to find that it was one of the best muffins he’d ever tasted. Well that just wasn’t fair. If he was going to get awesome surprise muffins, he wanted to know where he could get more.

“Hey Cap,” he sat down at the breakfast table without bothering to head into the kitchen. The carafe of coffee was in the middle of the table, and there were mugs at all of the place settings. Muffin and coffee were totally all he needed.

Rogers looked up from his enormous breakfast and nodded to Tony. He looked sweaty. Gods, he’d probably already gone jogging. “Hey Tony. Shouldn’t you be eating something a little healthier?”

“Seriously, gramps? Should I have a nice bowl of shredded wheat and a grapefruit?” Tony rolled his eyes and took another bite of muffin. It was amazing. He liked apple cinnamon and all, but he’d never thought of it as his favorite.

That opinion was going to have to be changed…

Tony frowned around his mouthful of sugary carb-filled goodness. There had to be a way to find out where it had come from. “Are you sure you don’t know where this came from, Jarvis?”

“I have no camera view of who or what the object is from, Sir” Jarvis denied again. “I appear to have approximately four point three seconds of missing footage on the camera in your bedroom.”

Cap frowned. “Wait, are you eating something that appeared in your room out of nowhere?”

“Of course not,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t elucidate. He wasn’t that good at lying, and he had no interest in giving up his muffin.

When the others arrived, he asked if they knew who had bought muffins. No one but Cap seemed terribly bothered by the notion of Tony’s muffin fairy. Clint expressed jealousy, in fact, and announced aloud that he liked chocolate muffins, in case of repeat offense. He probably thought it was someone trying to mess with Tony’s head.

When Thor and Doctor Foster had come for dinner that night, Tony had mentioned the muffin again.

“Hey Thor, you weren’t here this morning, were you? There was this muffin—”

Natasha, having decided that the muffin was of no relevance to anyone, rolled her eyes. “If you were so worried about where it came from, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten it.”

Thor cocked his head at Tony. “A muffin, my friend? The most excellent breakfast cakes your people enjoy?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “An apple one.”

Thor hadn’t said anything else at dinner, just frowned at Tony a lot and brooded. It was weird.

When everyone was breaking up to head to bed, Thor had come over. “Friend, you said you found an apple confection in your room this morn?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Pretty much.”

“And have you seen Loki recently?” Thor prompted.

“Jeez, Thor, really?” Tony frowned and downed the last of his drink before setting the glass in the sink at the bar. “That was one time, it hasn’t happened again.”

Thor nodded. “I am pleased that you have not been forced to save my brother’s life again, but that is not what I am concerned about.”

“Yeah, I know. I never should have said anything about him kissing me,” Tony sighed. He was not thinking about the sweet chaste kiss Loki had given him. He was not still wondering what he needed to do to get a less chaste version.

“On the contrary, if I did not know about that, I would not know to warn you that you should be careful of mysterious apple confections.” Thor said in a serious tone.

It took all Tony had not to laugh. “Careful? Of muffins?”

“My brother is unpredictable, friend, and may be trying to force upon you a gift you have not requested.” Thor reached out to squeeze his shoulder, and Tony braced for impact. The gesture was surprisingly softer than usual. “Just be wary of apples until you have spoken to my brother, and he has informed you of his intentions.”

Well that wasn’t cryptic at all.

The problem, of course, was that suddenly apples were every-fucking-where.

Tony ordered the cheesecake as dessert, and it came with a caramelized slice of apple on top.

Cap bought cupcakes so Tony would stop waxing poetic about stupid muffins, and Tony’s was somehow apple when all Steve had bought was carrot.

Tony ordered a martini with his dinner and received an appletini. Which, in addition to being a glow-in-the-dark abomination (fine, and not tasting terrible), had an apple floating in it.

Now, part of Tony had listened to Thor and was worried about possible frost giant machinations. Maybe Loki was using an apple to slowly poison him, or charm him. Maybe Loki was going to use him against his friends.

Mostly, though, Tony was reminded of how Loki’s lips had felt brushing against his. He was reminded of how he hadn’t yet had another chance to rescue Loki and ask for another kiss. He thought about kissing Loki a lot.

And Thor had irrevocably connected Loki and apples in Tony’s mind, so the moment someone put an apple in front of Tony, his mind immediately drifted to long satiny black hair, mischievous green eyes, and the softest lips he had ever kissed.

It had actually gotten rather uncomfortable during the cheesecake incident.

 

*

 

Tony arrived home from dinner, sour apple flavored alcohol still on the back of his tongue, and he immediately noticed the light on in his bedroom.

“Jarvis?” he asked tentatively.

When the smooth voice came down from the ceiling, sounding completely normal, Tony started breathing again. “To answer the question I presume you will be asking, Sir, the camera in your bedroom has ceased to function. Would you like me to summon aid?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “If they didn’t hurt you, they’re less of a douchebag than Fury, so no worries.”

“Sir—”

“I’ll talk to you in the morning, Jarvis,” Tony cut him off, opening the door enough to slip into his bedroom and then closing it behind him.

He was completely unsurprised to find Loki there. Maybe a little surprised to find Loki lounging on his bed looking exceedingly… seductive.

“I’d say surprise, but it doesn’t seem to be the case,” Loki practically purred.

Tony leaned against the door, regarding the beautiful man. “How much apple have you given me?”

“Why, the whole thing, of course.” Loki seemed momentarily surprised, but then his face slipped into a smirk. “Did Thor tell on me?”

“I asked about magic muffins, Thor said it might be from you, and that I should avoid apples.” Okay, it wasn’t exactly what Thor had said, but it was pretty close.

Loki’s smirk turned pouty. “Well that wasn’t very charitable of him. But…” Loki paused and looked a little concerned. “You have been eating them, haven’t you?”

“Every damned one,” Tony confirmed, still wondering if he’d made a huge mistake. “Not sure if I’m crazy or stupid. You make me feel like both.”

Sliding off Tony’s bed, Loki stalked over toward him, and he was reminded very much of large hunting cats. He wondered if apples were a good device to fatten someone up to be eaten themselves.

Loki pulled Tony forward by his tie and pressed their lips together in the kiss he had been dreaming of for months. (Gods, when had he turned into a teenager?)

“Not crazy or stupid, sweet. I accepted your aid, and you’ve accepted my gift. Do your people have some additional ritual that needs doing before I ravish you?” Loki was whispering the words against Tony’s lips, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Is that why you’ve been feeding me apples?” Tony whispered back, still rather confused.

Loki pulled back a bit and grinned. “I don’t enter into these things lightly, Tony Stark. After you made your feelings known, I had to decide whether to accept your suit.”

His suit? Did Loki think he’d proposed marriage?

“And then upon deciding that I was going to have you, I remembered that you were mortal, and had to fix it,” Loki continued. He wasn’t oblivious to Tony’s internal monologue, from the wicked knowing grin on his face, just amused by it.

“But I—”

“Are mine now, Tony Stark. I think you’ll find that you enjoy it.”


End file.
